


The Absolutely Peculiar Homicides in the Deep of the Wolfswood

by Theo_Lannister



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aerys Is His Own Warning, Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternative Universe - FBI, F/M, Horror, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Mystical Creatures, Mysticism, Roose Bolton is His Own Warning, Supernatural Elements, Tywin Lannister's A+ Parenting, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:15:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24947509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theo_Lannister/pseuds/Theo_Lannister
Summary: Agent Arthur "White Star" Dayne has gone missing after being sent to investigate a series of murders. His fellow agents, Rhaegar "Dragon" Targaryen and Jaime "Young Lion" Lannister, have been sent north to investigate, and to check on their injured ex-agent, Brandon. But the two agents may have stumbled upon more than they could ever have feared.
Relationships: Arthur Dayne/Rhaegar Targaryen (minor), Jaime Lannister/Lyanna Stark (minor)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Starfall

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing horror, but I'll put some romance, action and comedy in too. It is based roughly off of An American Werewolf in London.

"Shit." In all the places his car could've broken down, this was one of the worst. He kicked a wheel of his car. His foot hurt a bit, but it did make him feel better. He tried it again, but he was still rather upset. 

Ignoring the rain, he opened the driver's door and sat down with a "humpf." He checked his car's navigation system and cursed under his breath. He was fifteen miles away from the nearest precinct, and another twenty from any roadside assistance. "God damn Aerys."

The FBI never should've been sent to the Wolfswood, and especially him. Two "homicides" were hardly relevant to the FBI. This was rural North, no doubt the two people had been killed by some accident, or bear, or hell, a Wolf. It was called, after all, the Wolfswood. 

It wasn't as if he was entirely ungrateful. He would get a chance to see Brandon. He hadn't thought about that. Brandon lived near the Wolfswood, or at least he had when he was part of the Bureau. He wondered if he had Brandon's phone number...

He opened his phone, took off his gloves fro thumb id, and scrolled through his contacts. Deep in the "work" part of his contacts (He always prided himself on keeping files in order), he found "Brandon S (Work)," to separate him from Brandon Ryger (Work), Brandon Norrey (Work), and other such Brandons. And... shit.

It was at that moment Arthur realized he had no signal. 

_ Awhooooo! _

He jerked up. "Bloody wolves..." Arthur suddenly remembered  _ why  _ it was called the Wolfswood. But Wolves... Arthur was in a car, Arthur was an FBI Agent, and wolves... wolves can't open car doors.

_ Awhooooo! _

But that didn't they weren't bloody terrifying. Was that one louder? He wasn't quite sure. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to know either. 

_ Awhooooo! _

That one  _ was  _ louder. Of that he was certain. It was a  _ lot _ louder. Arthur locked his car doors, and slid his hand over to the glove compartment, and entered the passcode. His hand was twitching, but soon he had it open, and he grabbed his department-issued firearm. He wouldn't have to use it, he knew but

He heard a deep, loud bark. And a sudden sense of vertigo. He was being lifted. Gods have mercy, the car was being lifted. And then, all of a sudden, it was flipped.

He heard the growl again. Much louder, and the sound of glass shattering.  _ That's a hell of a wolf _ .


	2. Chapter 2

The road was blocked off about twenty meters from the wrecked car, police tape screaming "caution" for all to see. Not that anyone actually would see. It was early morning on Sunday, and even during rush hour traffic, the road was not considered "busy," by any stretch of the phrase. But as the old saying goes, kings and corpses call attendants. 

Of the corpse, Sherriff Eddard couldn't see. He pushed his way through the tape and entered the crime scene proper, and began recording the scene into his notebook. "Jaeherys brand car, Vermithor model. New-ish. Four maybe five years? Light grey color, Crownland's License plate. Difficult to tell much else. The car was... flipped." He paused. That wasn't part of the Wolfswood Butcher's MO. Most of his targets had been people  _ out _ of a car, mainly at campsites. Maybe it wasn't their target? Ned moved to the car's back bumper. "Two indents on the bumper, another 8 on the opposite side. The fender looks half ripped off, and slashed." That did fit the Butcher's profile. Most of his victims so far had involved heavy hacks and slashes, and four were noticeable on the car. 

He walked over to the front side of the car, "The front windshield shattered, same with the driver's side window. Fabric and blood on the glass," that made sense, if the Butcher had pulled out his victims, "Gods be good, that's a lot of blood." Ned looked around. All that blood means more than a bleed out, and no corpse was there. It seems like the cadaver was simply... gone. "The glove compartment is opened, doesn't look like anything is taken save for... a gun. Hmpf.' Inside of the glove compartment was a gun case, foam set up for a gun. 'It looks like it is a Summerhall Armory 1911-AC handgun, the gun is nowhere to be seen,' Ned wrote, "I'll check it by Tomard later..." He looked closer, and saw that there was... a lock on the glove compartment? That wasn't uncommon for police cars, and some higher quality cars. He looked in to see what else was in there. "Papers... look like police files. Huh. And a badge, for the FBI. 'Agent Dayne, Arthur.'"  _ What was the FBI doing in the North? _

Deputy Cassel had gotten there before he had, and was already dusting near the slashes and door looking for prints. None, Eddard assumed. The Butcher hadn't left any evidence of his own at any point, no fingerprints or fluid. And worst of all, no leads. "Can you see the body?" Eddard called out to Jory.

"In this fucking weather? Not likely." Jory looked grim, but even ten feet away, the early morning fog and darkness made it difficult to see many details. "We could call in the K9 unit, but that could be another twenty minutes, and we don't even know if the dogs will find anything."

"Any potential lead is worth it. Call to the station, have them send out a forensic team and K9 unit. Oh, and tell Tommard to search up the license plate."

* * *

Jaime Lannister was in the Headquarter' gym, working out on his lunch break. Lyle Crakehall had attached an extra hundred pounds, tied to his weighted belt. Jaime breathed in slowly, held his breath as he grabbed the bar, and exhaled. And then he flew into action. 

He was not so much counting as feeling. He didn't  _ know _ what number of pull up he was on, but he could feel the strain in his bicep and back and could  _ sense _ that he was becoming slower. But he was not straining, not as of yet. He cracked out a couple more, and a trickle of sweat was dripping down his arm. It was strange, he could feel a single droplet, but not the weight. And suddenly, without warning, he dropped.

Lyle grunted, catching the weight before it clanged on the ground, while Jaime got himself. "Next time tell me before you drop, Asshole." He shoved his shoulder out to make Jaime stumble as the blonde-haired man untied his belt.

"And have you know I was getting weak? Not on your life, Crakehall." Jaime was breathing heavily, much more than he expected for the exercise. "Marbrand, how many did I pull off?"

"You should learn how to count, Jaime," Addam Marbrand was a charismatic man, kind even in his scolding. "I got thirty before you dropped, around forty seconds or so if the clock is timed properly."

"Truly? I suppose I must try again tomorrow. I was hoping for-"

Jaime was interrupted when someone turned off the music playing in the gym. Tom O' Sevens was still in the opening of "High Road to Hell," and the sudden stop in music was jarring. Walking towards the pull-up bar was Agent Jonothor Darry. "Sers," Darry nodded towards Jaime's friends, "Ser Jaime, will you come with me?"

Agent Darry was known for his dark humor in the agency, but whenever he was on duty, he was as stubborn (and boring) as stone. "Of course. Do I have time to shower or change?"

"No."

_ That was unfortunate _ . Jaime had left his uniform in his locker, putting on a sleeveless grey workout shirt, a headband to hold his hair out of his eyes, and a pair of  _ Lannisport Lions _ basketball shorts he had from high school. He looked not at all like an up and coming FBI agent.  _ At least I left the scrunchie at home _ . __ He followed Jonothor.

They left the gym, went up a flight of stairs, and walked past the front desk. Then it was into the elevator. As the engine rumbled to life and the classical music began to play, Jaime asked the question on his mind. "Where are we going?"

"Commander Hightower and Agent Targaryen have asked you for a meeting."

"I asked where not who." Jaime Lannister was not an agent yet, that was true, but he was a Lannister. The son of the Vice President was rarely called unless it was important. Commander Hightower was the highest-ranking man in the FBI, only below the Master of Laws, so he expected a summoning to come from him. Agent Targaryen though... what did Rhaegar want with him?

Agent Darry snorted. "Commander Hightower's office, where else?"

"Winterfell, Summerhall or Asshai-by-the-shadow?"

Darry laughed "You're that excited for your first assignment?"

"I'm sick of 'ser,' I want  _ agent _ . Is that so bad?"

"If you can handle the responsibility. It's more paperwork than gunfights."

"It's not like I have gunfights right now either."

"Well, you may have your wish soon." Jaime gave him a cocked smile.

"Oh, stop being so tight-lipped. Whatever you'll tell me, I'll learn soon anyway, might as well skip all the hassle."

Before Jonothor could answer, the elevator dinged open, and he was escorted into the White Bull's office. It wasn't very large, primarily overrun with a large oak desk that was not designed to be in such a room. Standing in front of it (there was only a single chair) was Agent Rhaegar Targaryen, his white-blonde hair hung loose, reaching his shoulders. He wore a red shirt buttoned to his collar underneath his suit, with a white tie. Gerold Hightower looked like he could be Rhaegar's father, though he was much broader in the chest, and even in his older age his hair remained darker.

"Ser Jaime, I trust you know your fellow agents,"  _ that was a good sign _ , Jaime thought,  _ fellow, he said _ . "Agent Darry, you can leave us."

"Aye, Commander," Darry turned on his heel and was gone. 

"I'd ask you to take a seat, but you can understand," Lord Hightower said apologetically. "I'm going to give you an assignment."  _ About damn time _ , Jaime thought. "Agent Targaryen will be with you. I know you'll have some questions, so say them now."

_ A terrorist cell, organized drug ring, maybe a cultist, something interesting _ . "What's my mission?"

Rhaegar answered on Commander Hightower's behalf. "A serial killer's gotten one of our own. We're going to sort it out."

Jaime's bemused look faded. "Which... which agent?"

"Agent Dayne."

"I beg your pardon?" There were plenty of agents he would've figured would be dead. Agent Connington was always too forward, Lonmouth too bluff and Morton too slothful. But Dayne? Arthur Dayne was one of the greatest agents alive. 

The look RHaegar gave him was contemptuous. "He has gone missing. Arthur..." Rhaegar's voice was uncharacteristically wavering, "Arthur was on his way to Winterfell after landing in Barrowton office. He was sent after 'The Wolfswood Butcher and...'" 

"You're going to get him back," Hightower finished for him. "I'll give you your file on the matter. Stop and talk to Willem, he'll get you equipped. You're dismissed." 

And like Darry, he turned on his heel and left.

* * *

"He's not ready, Gerold, and you know it. You're sending him to his death." Once Jaime had left, Rhaegar rounded on his boss. 

"I'm not doing anything. I don't have a bloody choice," Hightower sighed, reaching under his desk for a flask. "His damned father's been breathing down my neck for months. And when I gave the report to the Master of Laws, Tywin gave me a command."

"This killer has avoided the Winterfell police and hunters for months. He killed Arthur too, and you think this... this kid can come out of this alive?"

"This is the safest operation I could give him, even if I could choose to send him. He'll have you, the sheriff's department up there, and even Brandon."

"This 'Butcher' has killed almost forty people across four counties, most of the hunters and veterans. And you think that me, a kid, and whatever is left of Brandon can kill them?"

"I hope you can."


End file.
